Remus awoke stiff and aching. It was a gloomy day, made so by the oppressive clouds overhead. The trees around him cut large swaths into the weak light, creating a forest of shadows.
He gingerly moved a bit, then began stretching his muscles. The pain he felt in every muscle, every bone, every inch of skin, was the pain he'd felt every month for most of his life. He accepted it.
Yes, accepted. For the most part anyway. Not really accepted. More like dealt with.
A lot of werewolves couldn't deal with it. Why do you think so many were mercenaries? He would never forget the tribe he'd run across, sometime in the years after James and Lily died. His friends were gone. So he'd left… and went a great many places. This tribe of werewolves had seemed to be just a community banded together to face persecution. And then he'd found out that they would go out and deliberately create werewolves to join them -it didn't matter how old they were.
To him, that was cruel.
He stood up and walked around a bit, then apparated to where he'd left some things. So far away from England, with no access to a Wolfsbane potion, he couldn't exactly lock himself up in a building without taking certain risks, and he needed to keep up his anonymity. So, here he was, in the middle of nowhere.
He ate a quick breakfast and decided to contact Moody right away. Sometimes he'd have no choice but to rest after a full moon; Most often though, he'd push on despite the lethargy tagging after his every movement.
After he packed up everything, he sat down and pulled out a mirror. After several incantations, he said, "Moody, it's Remus." It would have been much easier to use a campfire (most people didn't know that you could in fact use any fire for communication, though you had to know how, and it wasn't exactly easy) but as he didn't know where Moody was, that wasn't feasible.
So they'd resorted to even more laborious communication techniques -mirrors. The bigger the mirror, the harder it was, hence the small size of the mirror currently resting in his hands. After a few minutes passed a hazy image appeared, which did appear to be Moody.
One could never be too careful though. Verification of their identities, to the best of their ability to do so, only took a few seconds. "Remus. Are you fit?" The other man no doubt took note of his abnormally pale face, complete with dark circles under his eyes. He probably looked downright haggard.
"I'm fine, any news?" He had been working with Moody for a while now; They had been continuing their work in ferreting out Death Eaters. It was almost ineffectual work, considering the amount of effort it took to reveal who was a Death Eater, considering that nearly everyone was suspect. But, it would give people some hope; And that was part of the Orders' job.
"Unfortunately the squirrelly bastard has disappeared. We think he Disappointed old Voldie." Well, so much for that one. When you pissed off Voldemort, you ended up dead. Remus thought it was truly sad; some Death Eaters truly believed in Voldemort and his supposed 'ideals,' not really seeing what they were perpetuating. They were peoples neighbors, the friends, their family.
"Anything else?" he was trying not to remember all the times he'd gotten disastrous news after transformations.
"Aye; Voldemort crashed Weasley's funeral."
Dread descended on him like an anvil, accentuating his fatigue. Harry, Dumbledore, and all the Weasleys had been there. "Go on."
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Remus walked into what they referred to as the Asylum. It was really just a small Order operated clinic, and yes it was white… or not.
He raised an eyebrow as he walked into Harry's room, as it was not white, but, well, psychedelic. "Do I want to ask?"
Ron and Hermione were sitting next to a table stacked with letters, merriment spread across their faces. Ron looked up at his voice, "Remus! Ah, lets just say that my brothers remembered how much Harry hates white."
Hermione shook her head and said, "Now he is going to hate every color."
Remus smiled. He'd always found the twins antics amusing; they hadn't lost their enthusiasm like he and Sirius had. No, not lost. Sirius was still a nutcase; they were just darker. He looked at the letter in Ron's and hand, guessing at the source of their current amusement. "Should you be reading Harry's mail?"
Ron looked at the letter and sniggered. "Harry always lets us read his mail. Every year the amount of it increases -believe me, if you are really bored, reading this junk will cheer you up in not time." He started to read off the letter in a travesty of a woman's voice, but Hermione had the sense to snatch it away from him.
"You have no idea how many ways Harry has tried to get rid of his mail; these people just don't give up. There is this service that will handle mail for you, you know? Well, now everyone sends them their mail for Harry, and they get paid to send it all at him as soon as they figure out where he is."
Remus frowned, "They don't know he is here do they?"
Ron replied, "No, they sent all this to St. Mungo's. That's where everyone thinks he is."
Remus, "Ah, yes. I went there looking for Harry and found only pandemonium; Jasmine spotted me and let me know he was here, or I'd still be sinking into a pile of reporters."
"Reporters really are vultures," Hermione muttered.
Remus was a bit surprised -it wasn't like her to generalize people like that. But then again, he'd heard about how Rita Skeeter had ended up in a jar.
The door opened and Sirius came in. The tall dark man went straight to where Harry lay, not even noticing the new decorations. Remus stood up and moved over to him.
"You know you look like a drowned puppy right."
Sirius smiled half-heartedly and turned a scrutinizing gaze on Remus. Before he could demand the reason Remus wasn't at home resting, Hermione asked, "Where is Percy?" Remus turned back to the table, where Hermione now looked tense, and Ron murderous.
Percy… "Percy?"
Ron answered his face a mix up furious emotions, "He was working for Voldemort. He let them get to Harry."
He looked at Sirius. He expected to see a likewise expression of fury, but found only weariness and sorrow. There was more to it. "What is it Padfoot?"
"Ron, Percy was manipulated. It was the Imperious, but there were… things used on him before that. potions, memory charms. He's not doing so well."
Another life destroyed by Voldemort.
Hermione put a hand on Ron's arm. He still had fury in his face, but pain as well. "Can we see him?"
Sirius asked, "Yes. He's at St. Mungos."
The two left, and Remus heard Hermione's voice as the door closed. No doubt she'd be able to calm Ron down. Granted, they often got each other riled up, but it worked both ways.
Remus pushed Sirius into a chair and sat down himself. His best friend was now looking worriedly at his godson again. Sirius always pushed himself too far, though he accused Remus of doing the same, and his position in the Order provided good excuse to do so. Now his friend looked like he'd been run over by a muggle truck. Remus decided to prompt Sirius, "They couldn't tell me exactly what was wrong with Harry."
"He's stuck in his nightmares."
Remus drew in a measured breath to calm himself, ignoring the accompanying stinging. "What exactly do you mean?"
Sirius continued. "Do you see how livid his scar is?"
Remus looked at Harry, "You mean, he'd stuck in a perpetual nightmare with nobody to talk to but Voldemort?"
"He was more lucid after he woke up for the first time… then he just sort of degenerated. It wasn't- They are keeping him unconscious now, though he probably would be without interference."
"No one has told Ron and Hermione about this yet, have they?"
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Not particularly productive chapter, eh? But I did add a bit of fluff… Well, Hopefully we are going to see the Older Harry being his mysterious self in the next chapter.
